


Things That Make Up Simon

by vanishingbyler



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Simon, this is messy, wrote this because transsimonspier on tumblr got me soft for trans si
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishingbyler/pseuds/vanishingbyler
Summary: "That stuff doesn’t matter. Regardless of how you look, you’re Simon."





	Things That Make Up Simon

**Author's Note:**

> couldn't think of a title or a summary lol enjoy this abso mess

It was an unspoken thing between Simon and Bram that neither one of them commented on Simon’s height. Since the trans thing had been mentioned in passing at a Spier family barbecue in the early stages of their relationship, Bram knew that it was a touchy subject.

 

That wasn't to say he didn't love it. The way Simon was just tall enough to bury his face right in Bram’s chest when they hugged, and how Bram could rest his head gently on top of his boyfriend’s when standing behind him. He loved how he could carry Simon on his shoulders and totter about the football field, something that wouldn't be possible if they were both over six foot.

 

It’s a Thursday when everything comes to a standstill. They’re officially high school graduates, and Bram is staying the night. They’ve had the excruciatingly uncomfortable conversation with both their parents about using protection, and they’re in Simon’s bed. The room is lit up with fairy lights and a vinyl of some British band Bram’s never heard of is creating the soundtrack to the cheesy rom-com scene playing out between them. They lie beside each other, partially obscured by the blankets, looking into each other’s eyes like lifelines. The walls around them have been freshly adorned with chalk doodles and song lyrics, “Simon is gay lol” printed in Bram’s distinctive cursive. They both feel warm. This is where they want to be.

 

Bram drapes an arm over Simon’s waist, hand coming to rest on his hip. Simon winces, so subtly that it’s almost unnoticeable. Bram sees because he notices everything Simon does. It’s a cringey kinda love thing.

 

“Si?”

 

Simon doesn’t say anything, casting his eyes away from Bram’s and pushing his boyfriend’s hand higher up his waist, bringing it to lay across the small of his back instead. 

“Si, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

 

He still neglects to make eye contact. Bram feels his heart break.

 

“You don't have to apologise. What did I do?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I should've said.”

“You don't owe me that conversation. You don't owe me anything.”

 

He's readying himself to say something, Bram can tell. He takes the hand that isn't pulling Simon close and uses it to cup his cheek. The eye contact still hasn't resumed, but the watery smile and single tear spilling down Simon’s face suggests that's more because of how he feels about himself than how he feels about Bram.

 

“Do you ever see a picture of yourself and you can't help but analyse every detail?” Simon’s voice is cracking.

“I used to.”

“Because that's what it's like. Th-the thing… the trans thing. I’m usually okay,  I am. I guess it helps that I'm through most of the medical stuff now. I'm probably as man as I can be without being thousands of dollars in debt.”

 

Bram holds him closer, laying a soft kiss on his forehead. He buries his face in the fluffy brown mop atop his boyfriend’s head.

 

“Those pictures today, at the party. I don't usually worry about it, but it's the one with me, and you, and the other soccer guys. I'm at least a head shorter than any of you, even Nick. And I just look so…”

 

He doesn't need to finish the sentence for Bram to get it   
  
“When I was younger, I got  hung up on my skin. Every photo I was in, I’d look between me and my parents and question if people would link me to them. When I was with my mom, I worried I looked too white. With my dad, I worried I looked too black. I was always just somewhere in between. It was even worse after the split.”   
“I’m sorry -”   
“Don’t be. We both have the right to worry about those things. I want to remind you, though, that it means nothing.”

 

Simon looks up at last, his magical grey eyes rimmed with red. There’s so much going on within them, pain and confusion and  _ love.  _   
  
“That stuff doesn’t matter. Regardless of  how you look, you’re Simon. You do all the things that make up Simon, and when people are watching you going round and round on the same ferris wheel for almost an hour waiting for one person, they don’t care that you’re a few inches shorter than other people. When you’re performing onstage with a shiny red tux and eyeliner that could kill a bitch, they’re not seeing your hips. The things you see within yourself that you think are so obvious don’t bother anybody else. Because you’re  _ Simon,” _

 

Simon sniffles a few times, leaning in closer to Bram’s chest. His head lodges itself under his boyfriend’s chin, wild blond hair licking at his features. They stay that way long enough that neither is really sure what time it is any more. They only move when they’re called down for dinner.

 

A grin spreads across both of their faces as they see the piles of takeout pizza laid in front of the TV. The couch was set up with hordes of blankets and Simon’s family already arguing over what to watch. Bram picks up a slice of Hawaiian pizza and collapses into the cushions beside Nora, while Simon continues deliberate over whether to have his pizza Margherita or Meat Feast. When he eventually settles on a flavour (Hawaiian, to match Bram), he lowers himself into his boyfriend’s lap. Nora rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, as if the boys had started making out right in front of her.

 

“Si, sit on the couch! I can’t see over your head.”   
“Imagine how much worse it’d be if I was taller.” the blond boy smirks, kissing the tip of Bram’s nose quickly.

 

Bram rolls his eyes, the arm that wasn’t holding his pizza coming to curl around Simon’s waist His hand came to rest on Simon’s hip, almost subconsciously, but neither does anything to change it.

 

As  _ Spider-Man 2  _ began to play on the TV, everyone settles into the couch. The pizza supplies deplete quickly, and by halfway through the movie Nora is the only one not snuggling into someone’s chest. Simon’s eyelids flutter, sleep calling him, and he curls into a tight ball in his boyfriend’s lap. His head slots into place on Bram’s shoulder, overgrown hair tickling at his neck.

 

Bram can’t help but feel overwhelmed at how soft he looks. Whispering, so as not to disturb the other Spiers, he mumbles “My boy...” into Simon’s hair.

 

The ghost of a smile spreads across Simon’s blushed cheeks, and Bram realises that right now is exactly where he wants to be.


End file.
